


The Nephilim at the End of this Book

by Riverchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Rowena MacLeod, Books: Supernatural Series - Carver Edlund, Dean Being Dean, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Jack is a cutie, Supportive Castiel (Supernatural), Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 10:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18754669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverchester/pseuds/Riverchester
Summary: Jack finds Chuck's books online and decides to continue them, to the distress of some and the amusement of other residents of the bunker.My entry for the Purgatory Con 2019 fanfiction contest





	The Nephilim at the End of this Book

**Author's Note:**

> So, I gotta tell you a bit about this one-shot 'cause it's been such a crazy experience:
> 
> Purgatory Con in Düsseldorf (Germany) this year had a fanfiction contest and I wrote this story for it. I was one of two people in the narrow choice and the organization team transformed my story into a 3 act play, which then was acted out on stage last Sunday at the convention. It.was.awesome! seriously!  
> I was so lucky to have a cosplayer in the role of Rowena and the other roles were perfect too. Master of Ceremony (host) at the Convention was David Alpay and he played Sam in my fic. Sachin Sahel played Dean and he did an awesome job.  
> I won 3 Photo Ops in the end. It was such an amazing experience and I am endlessly grateful for it.

Dean stuffed his mouth with a leftover burrito. It was quarter to midnight: the perfect time for a little snack before going to bed. His eyelids already began to drop as he passed door after door of the bunker’s corridor, dragging his feet along the path from the kitchen to his bedroom. There was hardly any route he knew better than this one.

Sam had retreated hours ago and was either already asleep or had his head buried in a book. Or both. For a second, Dean pondered the idea of loudly banging against his brother’s door but quickly discarded the thought. They all deserved a couple of uninterrupted nights of sleep after their last hunt; or so he told himself. It could also have been the underlying fear of Sam’s revenge.

Munching on cold meat and cheese, the hunter scuffed on, only to stop again a few seconds later. Muted light created a long line on the floor and, listening closely, he could hear something that sounded like typing. It came from Jack’s room.

The Nephilim sat in the center of his bed, cross-legged and with his eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop. He didn’t look up when Dean entered.

“What are you doing there?”

Jack turned his head around to smile at the hunter. “Writing.” He went back to staring at the screen as if he had given a completely satisfactory answer.

Blinking, Dean sighed. He was too tired to even care what exactly the boy did at night. He had once caught Cas watching Spanish telenovelas while everyone else had been asleep, so he guessed this was just another habit of keeping busy during the times where normal people needed to rest. Also, the kid was generally peculiar, to say the least.

He closed the door on his way out and, hearing a cheerful “Goodnight, Dean” from behind, the hunter huffed a laugh.

For a few days, the nightly encounter vanished from Dean’s mind but the sight began to repeat more frequently: In the war room after dinner, in the library on a lazy Sunday afternoon, even in a motel room or Baby’s backseat after a hunt; A yellow notepad and his laptop were Jack’s constant companions. And Dean felt like he was the only one noticing it.

 

*

 

“Hey,” Dean whispered as he poked his brother in the ribs. “You got any idea what the kid is doing over there?”

Sam followed his not very subtle pointing at Jack across the table. They had just come home from taking care of a nest of vampires in Oklahoma and even after a long, hot shower the younger Winchester still felt his muscles ache as he shrugged. “Seems like he’s writing.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I can see that. But what exactly is he writing?”

Looking over at Jack and Cas sitting next to each other in silence, Sam didn’t notice anything weird about the situation. “I don’t know. Maybe he started keeping a diary.”

“Would he use a yellow notepad for that?”

Sam sighed. “Dude, if you want to know, just ask him.”

There was a moment of silence in which the hunter tried to go back to his own occupation until Dean stood up – his chair loudly scratching over the wooden floor – and picked up their plates. “Anyone want something from the kitchen?” he asked.

The three other men shook their heads and Dean disappeared just to return a minute later with a bottle of beer in his hand. He sat down again, smiling at his brother, and rubbed his thumb over a drop of condensation running down the bottle. His other hand started to drum a random rhythm on the top of the table. And, knowing his brother’s habits like the inside of his own pockets – if not better – Sam began to mentally count. _1, 2, …_

“Okay, seriously, Jack. You’ve been writing every free minute lately. What are you doing there? A diary?”

The Nephilim looked up from his notepad for the first time since they had finished dinner. Frozen still like a deer in the headlight and with big innocent eyes, he blinked a couple of time. “It is about the things I experience. But I wouldn’t call it a diary. It’s more like stories. About you. About us.”

Dean choked on his beer. “Wait, what?”

Even Sam had to admit that he was kind of intrigued by the answer. “You’re writing stories about us? About our hunts?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Wh- Why?” Dean was leaning back in his chair, squinting at the Nephilim.

Jack closed his laptop, his hands folded on top. “So, a while back I found these books by Carver Edlund – “

“Oh, boy…” Sam didn’t have to look at his brother to know the other man’s reaction, who bit on his lip and ran a hand down his face.

“ – and after reading a few I realized that these were actually written about your life. Cas told me that Chuck, God, wrote them.”

Dean snorted – not in a funny way. “Sure he did.”

Confused and with his head tilted, Cas met the eyes of the older Winchester. “I didn’t know this was supposed to be a secret.”

“No, Cas, it’s fine,” Sam interjected. He wasn’t in the mood for an argument. Dean apparently couldn’t let it down, though.

“Oh, is it?”

“Dean, come on, he’s just –“

“Don’t ‘come on’ me, man.” Dean stood behind his chair then with his arms propped up on the backrest. “Seriously, have you forgotten about what’s written in these books? Or what it put us through?”

Sam shook his head and huffed a laugh. “No, of course not.” How could he ever forget that? “I _lived_ through what’s written in there.”

“Because I remember you saying you want to burn every single copy.”

This was beginning to get a seriously unnerving conversation and, trying to end it while he still could, Sam answered rather simply. “That was years ago. I got over it.”

Dean, however, still wouldn’t let it be. “Oh, okay. So, I guess it won’t give you the creeps if I mention for example… Becky?”

Sam had already expected this as soon as his brother started his sentence and, in his thoughts, he wanted to slap Dean for it.

“Who’s Becky?” Jack eventually took part in the discourse again, but Sam would have rather answered any other question.

Cas started to explain before the hunter could even open his mouth, though. “She was a fan of Chuck’s books and married Sam by using a love spell on him.” Dean chuckled. Of course _this_ was funny to him.

“Thanks, man.” Sam said to the angel, sarcasm pouring out of every pore.

 “She married you, wrote steamy fanfiction about you, –“ Dean began to list but he got interrupted by Jack.

“Oh, I read about fanfiction.”

Everyone was rendered speechless after that. The brothers shared a slightly scared glance. Neither of them wanted to go on with this conversation now. The mood had turned and Sam nervously started to fidget with a pen.

“Look, Jack…” he cleared his throat, not really knowing where to go with this, “the books Chuck wrote are about real events, but fanfiction is more of a –“

The Nephilim shrugged. “I know. Some were very entertaining. But I also know that a lot of these things have nothing to do with reality.” He paused shortly, his mouth curling up into a smile before he continued: “I also found Star Wars fanfiction.”

Loud exhaling from everyone filled the air. It was a mystery to Sam how the boy could change a deeply uncomfortable situation into something almost adorable with a single statement. The hunter took a deep breath and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “So, and now what? You decided to continue the stories?”

“I enjoyed reading about your past adventures,” Jack said, his features lighting up as he kept talking while changing his switching his attention between Sam and Dean. “How Cas saved you from Hell, how you all fought the apocalypse. I feel like I understand everything better now.” The boy looked at them with big eyes. “You saved the world so many times. And you still do. I just thought it’s worth being written down.”

Cas was the first one to rest a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I think that’s a great idea, Jack.”

“I agree,” Sam joined in, standing up and walking over to them. It could be so easy and innocent when the boy put it like that. “Would you let me read it?”

Only Dean didn’t seem to be on the same page. “Seriously? You’re all completely fine with this?”

“Why not?” both Sam and Cas answered.

The older Winchester shook his head and murmured something, looking at them with the absence of any kind of understanding. “Okay, you know what? I… I’ll just go.” He turned around and left the room.

Sam and Cas shared a glance that expressed annoyance.

“Is he mad at me?” Jack asked.

The other two men – cardholding members of the _Dean-is-mad-at-me-club_ – tried to reassure him. “You know Dean,” Sam said, smiling at the Nephilim, “He’s hot-headed but he’ll come around eventually.”

 

*

 

“Hello, boys,” Rowena said as she descended the stairs to the war room.

Dean surely didn’t like her or any other witch around but even he had to agree that she could be quite helpful at times, and in that specific moment that was all that mattered. They had chased a monster through half the state without ever arriving in time to catch the damn beast or at least prevent the bloody slaughter of the young girls serving as food. Because of that, the hunter cursed her in his mind rather than speaking out loud.

Rowena put her large bag on one of the tables in the library. “Is the handsome angel not here?” she asked while turning around herself once before she sighed and looked at Jack sitting in one of the comfortable leather armchairs. “Well, then you will be the lucky one to help me set these things up”

Sam came into the room but couldn’t even say much more than “Hello” because the witch immediately held a piece of paper right in front of his face. “I need a few things from your storage room, if you’d be so kind, Samuel.” Just like that, she began to order everyone around like a puppet master. Dean rolled his eyes.

Jack began to unpack Rowena’s equipment – a couple of small jars filled with substances Dean didn’t even want to know the origin of – and closely inspected a tiny vial.

“I wouldn’t open it if I were you. One drop on your skin could turn you to stone immediately”

The boy looked at her and slowly put the vial down

Dean snorted at them. “He’s a Nephilim. Your magic tricks won’t harm a hair on his head.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of my ‘magic tricks’, Dean Winchester.” With a sigh, she sat down, assembling her equipment in front of her. She looked to her right and tapped the only left empty spot on the table with a finger. “What does a girl have to do to get a drink in here?”

Taking a deep breath, Dean thought he would soon reach the point where he either needed to count to ten or go at her throat. “We don’t have time for this crap, Rowena.”

“And I don’t have time to always come running when you boys are unable to get your own job done. I canceled a date to help you out so you could show a little bit more gratitude.”

_1, 2, 3, …_ Dean wasn’t in the mood to even consider that she actually had a point. He went to fetch her a drink anyway and since the bottle of bourbon in the library was empty, he had an excuse to go into the kitchen and cool off his temper a bit.

“Make it a double,” Rowena called after him.

To say Dean was a little bit stressed out was an understatement. The whole thing with Jack and his writing project was winding him up. The boy followed him around even more than before, always carrying one of these damned yellow notepads. But he told himself that this was a case, with a monster to hunt and kill; the perfect way to distract himself. Though, when he came back into the library, he already felt the vein on his temple pulse again.

“Why, that’s a brilliant idea! But doesn’t it get boring after a while to write about these flannel-wearing morons?” Rowena was in the motion of mixing up all kinds of gross witchy things while Jack sat next to her with his laptop in his lap. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I bet a story about the exciting life of an equally brilliant and beautiful witch would be way more interesting.” She threw her red hair back with a swift movement to come across even more dramatic.

Jack was immediately enthusiastic about the idea. “I do intend to put you in the story about this hunt”

Rowena laughed and patted the boy’s cheek. “Do you need help to find fitting adjectives to describe me? Magnificent, charming, classy, brilliant. You know what? I’ll make a list for you later. Now, let’s get this spell started before one of your fathers knocks me over with a bottle.” She added the last part when she saw Dean’s unnerved expression, but not without a cocky wink.

It was tempting, Dean had to admit, but he rather left them alone to busy himself somewhere else in the bunker. Sam passed him in the hallway, carrying more boxes with more gross witchy stuff.

 

*

 

“Does anyone know what’s up with Dean?”

“He’s still mad at me for writing these stories,” Jack replied. It sounded a bit sad.

Sam groaned. This immature behavior was starting to get on his nerves. “Okay, this is gonna stop now,” he said to himself and left the other two in charge of the spell to search for his brother. Dean was in the kitchen – of course – and was aggressively cleaning the stainless-steel countertops when Sam entered.

“Seriously, can you stop acting like a child about this?”

Dean didn’t even look up from his occupation. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean you being a jerk because of these damn books.” Sam loved his brother, there wasn’t and never had been a doubt about that, but sometimes he could also murder him.

That made the older hunt stop after all. He threw the sponge into the sink with unnecessary force. “Come on, Sammy, the kid is following us around, writing down everything we say and do. It feels like having a spotlight on me all the time.”

Sam sighed and sat down at the table. “You’re just overdramatic.”

Dean joined him after getting a bottle of beer for each of them from the fridge. “Am I? So, you’re telling me you’re fine with him keeping track of every meal you order at a diner, of how many hours you sleep, watch TV or how long you shower in the morning?”

“Dude, have you even read one of his stories?” The absence of a reply following this question was enough of an answer. “It’s no protocol of our lives.” Sam opened his beer and downed half of it in one go. “He writes about our hunts, sometimes about movie nights or the dinner you cook. It’s actually well written and honestly, I’m glad he has fun doing it.”

Dean snorted but didn’t comment on Sam’s small lecture otherwise, so he continued. “Don’t forget that he was thrown into all of this chaos from the moment he was born. Hell, even before he was born. Adjusting to the world must be hard. He’s not harming anyone, Dean. So what’s the problem about him writing stories for his own entertainment? It just shows how much he’s looking up to us. To you! So, grow up and be a little bit more supportive”

It was obvious that something of what he had just said struck his brother because Sam saw him getting quiet, looking down at the table with an unidentifiable expression. Without another word, Sam got up and left Dean alone. He had the feeling that his mission was accomplished.

 

*

 

Rowena’s tracking spell worked. They found the monster, dealt with it in hunter-style, and were back in the bunker in no time. Okay, maybe they also benefitted from a bit of angel mojo. Dean had to admit that having Jack around had been pretty helpful. After Cas had been knocked out and he and Sam were both on the edge of losing the fight, the kid had ended it all with a simple movement of his wrist. The hunter knew that he had been hard on Jack for too long. Both Sam and Cas let him feel that.

To celebrate the successful hunt, Dean made a big pot of chili with garlic bread and he didn’t even argue when Sam invited Rowena to stay for dinner. They ate, chatting and joking, and then settled in front of the TV with everyone basically doing their respective stuff while a generic hospital show was on the background. Sam was going through the latest news on his tablet, Cas had a book in his lap but actually tried to follow the events on the screen with a frown, and Jack was typing on his laptop. It was moments like this that made their complicated life full of loss and hurt even bearable. Family time meant everything to Dean. And no matter how long he tried to refuse it, Jack was a part of them. He was a Winchester and he deserved being treated better.

The clock struck twelve when they eventually decided to call it a night. Sam was visibly tired, and it was kind of funny to watch him organize his extremely long limbs to stand up and shuffle towards his room. Cas said goodnight too and retreated, so did Jack. Dean was the last one left and he cleared up a bit, putting away empty bottles and a bowl of popcorn.

Before turning off the light, he noticed Jack’s laptop on the table. It was tempting, and after a rather short argument inside his mind, Dean sat down and stared at the open document. It was a story about a hunt a couple of weeks ago.

 

_The victim is alive. Sam, Dean and Cas have arrived just in time to save her and she is endlessly grateful for these strange men risking their lives, fighting against something so horrible it will be imprinted in her mind forever. Just so she can return to her daughter._

_They describe hunting as their job, but it is so much more than that. It is not only about the people they save, it is just as much about these people’s families; Their wives and husbands, daughters, sons, mothers, fathers; their friends._

_Sam, Dean, and Cas return home wash the blood off their faces and already prepare to go out there again, into this world so full of danger, without expecting gratitude or glory. It is a life’s work; draining, exhausting, hurting. But they don’t give up and are at your door when you need their help._

_Because that’s what heroes do._

Dean swallowed. He kept sitting there for a couple of minutes, rereading the part over and over again. Before he eventually stood up, he pressed ‘save’ to make sure nothing of this would get lost.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked reading it <3<3


End file.
